


Killjoys Live Loud and Die Young

by LuckySeven



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance, the fabu
Genre: Friendship, Multi, Murder, Post-Apocalypse, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 13:44:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/622818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckySeven/pseuds/LuckySeven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A group of girls is left homeless and alone after the Nuclear fallout that destroys America. They are taken under wing by the infamous Better Living industries only to realize the horror of the company they thought their savor. They are rescued by rebel forces, lead by the Fabulous Killjoys. The 4 girls then join the bold zone runners, determined to fight the diabolical super company. They are taught tricks of the trade by Party Poison, Fun Ghoul, Jet Star, and Kobra Kid, and graduate themselves to brave fighters for the revolution against life as a symptom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Killjoys Live Loud and Die Young

Killjoys live loud and die young.  
PROLOUGE: PART 1

46 Minutes. 46 minutes and 29 nuclear bombs.28,043,000 people dead, that’s 90% of the population. Numbers are all I have left.  
I can only see numbers, because if I don’t, I see faces. My parents, my friends,my everything. Gone in a flash of blinding, burning light.America is gone. Gone in 46 minutes. Everything that made this country has disappeared. The government, the cities, the people. It’s hard to believe how delicate, something I thought to be so secure, can turn out to be.  
I don’t know who dropped the bombs, I don’t know why. I really don’t know anything anymore, but those things I do know, are precious. My name was Kayla Maron. When the bombs fell I was 15 years old. My little sister, Addison, was 12. Both my parents were killed and my house was destroyed. All me and Addison had left were the clothes on our backs and each other. We wandered in the wreckage of what had once been California, absolutely alone.  
Call it fate, or luck, or destiny, but when we fell in with a group of refugees we found mementos to life before the fallout.  
Ally and Coleen. Girls from my old school. Close friends that I had never expected to see again. It was hope. A small beam of hope, but with one another we had something to live for again. The four of us clung together like shipwreck victims. Drifting in a sea of destruction and radiation.  
Eventually some kind of government was thrown together, lead by one of the few intact pieces of the America we had known. BLI, Better Living Industries, opened their doors and poured out aid. Food, water, clothing. They gathered us survivors like frightened children around them. Around 350 of us were brought to a refugee camp. They gave us fresh clothes and a place to sleep. For that, we could not have been more grateful. The camp was made of hundreds of white tents, each fitting four people. These tents circled a large open space titled the central courtyard. The executive building, a tall regal looking structure where the BLI administrators lived, crouched at the courtyards front. It was like a little city.  
At first all of us eulogized BLI as our savior and hero. But then things began to change. People began to disappear for weeks at a time, and then suddenly, they would reappear. No one cared too much, but Coleen was worried. She believed the people who came back had changed. 

“They aren’t normal.” She would whisper to us whenever we saw them. “Their faces. Just look! Blank as a white page.” 

It wasn’t just their faces though. The way’s they acted was different as well. One man, who had disappeared, became a vocal supporter of BLI. He raved about the generosity and genius of our glorious saviors, ranting that we should dedicate our lives to support them. Some listened to him, but mostly everyone stayed away. I had seen something similar on a TV show a long time before. The program tracked a pack of wolves and witnessed one become infected by rabies. Somehow, the pack knew something was wrong with their fellow being and avoided the poor creature like a plague. I wonder if they could sense the taint on the other mammal, smell the mark of evil.  
People continued to disappear as our days in the camp turned to weeks. One day out of the blue, dozens BLIs’ of white trucks rumbled down the road into the central courtyard. Out poured, things. Things with atrocious masks of snarling, twisted faces. They wore all white and carried guns. It was like the stuff of nightmares. I remember Addison clutching my hand, trembling, as the horrifying beings marched up and down the rows of tents. The Spokespeople running the camp told us not to be afraid. They informed us these soldiers' job was to protect us from murderous rebel gangs, who seemed determined to destroy everything BLI was trying to rebuild. No one argued. Why would we? The Draculoids, as someone had called them as a halfhearted joke, did nothing but watch us.  
They positioned themselves throughout the camp and never moved. Only their heads swiveled as you walked by. Watching us, waiting.  
Coleen and me tolerated them, while Addison was scared senseless by their leering masks. But it was Ally, who hated them. She couldn’t explain why she did, only saying it was a gut feeling. A gut feeling that there was something very wrong with BLI’s militants 

“It isn’t people that are under those masks, can’t be. I’ve been watching their eyes. If you pay attention, and look closely, you realize they never blink.”  
She opened her eyes wide at us. Demonstrating. “They are robots, or clones or something. And, I don’t think they are really here to protect us.” 

Either way, as it was with the changed people, we kept our distance from the silent, threatening beings.Murmurs of true unhappiness began when a woman was shot by one of the Dracs. What the spokespeople told us, is she had been sneaking around at night, with malicious intent. But one of her tent-mates told us the real story. Her name was Sara, and she had been trying to find food. For that, none of us could blame her.  
We were all hungry. BLI gave us enough food to live on, but never enough to feel satisfied. We were informed, that these shortages were caused by the rebels disrupting transportation routes. But people didn’t believe this either, at least not entirely. It was common knowledge that the spokespeople had food stashed in the executive building. Several had seen it, piles of canned vegetable and bread and meats and everything we craved. The restlessness increased.  
Looking back, I wish we had left. Packed up the small possessions we had and disappeared. But we were only children. Scared and lost, we clung to every bit of civilization that was left. How could we run? Every moment of that last day in camp is still clear in my mind. Memories like soldiers standing at attention. Vivid colors, and harsh smells. Sometimes I still wake up with those moments in my eyes, the smells and sounds fresh. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything started normal.An average day. We woke up with the light, and trudged to the dining hall. The Draculoids stared as we walked by, silent as always. Unblinking ever-vigilant sentries.Breakfast was bland, tasteless and cold but no one complained, food was food. At the end of the meal a voice buzzed through a speaker on the wall.

“All, please report to the central courtyard for an assembly." 

Confusion radiated though the refugees, murmured questions stirring from mouths and bodies shifting uneasily.Addison looked at me questioning,  
“assembly?” 

Coleen bit her lip. “They have never called and assembly before”

Ally smiled reassuringly “I’m sure it’s nothing. Just an announcement or something”

I nodded, but my stomach was churning with worry. Foreshadowing I guess. Everyone made their way towards the courtyard, traveling in a herd like cattle.  
As we walked with the crowd, Ally looked at me

“Everything ok? You look worried.”I glanced at her and then stared ahead. 

“A little, you too huh?” She cringed, and nodded, muttering 

“so is Coleen…” 

We kept walking. They had chairs set up in neat rows in the courtyard, all facing towards the clean steps of the Executive building.  
We slowly filled them, quiet voices cluttering the air like moths. Clothes rustled, and people settled to wait. Sitting toward the back, Coleen, Addison, Ally and me clumped in with several others, because we were running out of chairs. I experienced a wave as déjà vu, this was just like the assemblies we had back in school.  
The cramped, cold metal chairs. The judgmental teachers, stifling closeness of other people and the worrying, unjustified sense of apprehension.  
As the time dragged by and boredom began to set in, my eyes drifted across the countenances around me. The faces ranged from Old, to tired, beautiful, to homely. Every nationality, a variant of people represented by these broken survivors. Strangely I felt connected to all of them. Some invisible thread of tragedy binding us to together.  
Past the faces, my eyes fell upon the line of Dracs positioned around the clearing. About 10 could be observed in plain sight, but at the same time, I could tell more were about. The chilling, clouding presence the masked militia carried on them was thick in the air. “I’m starting to believe Ally’s conspiracy theory about those things” I decided. No normal being should make me sweat and fidget just by being nearby.  
I went back to looking at people. It was far less disconcerting. I noticed a young women a row behind us and several seats down. Like the Dracs she had an aura of strangeness about her, but unlike them, hers was calming and bright and alive. She was relatively young, late 20s probably. I could see bright pink hair sticking out from under the hood pulled low on her face, and a nose ring glittered in the sunlight. I was fascinated. I watched her eyes scan the area methodically, her mouth moving, counting. Counting what? Abruptly she looked right at me. I froze. Her lips curled into a smile, and she winked at me. Then she mouthed something

“Yay harp fill soy?” I wondered. No that wasn’t it. 

“Say shark krill boy?” I furrowed my brow. 

“Stay sharp killjoy?” 

None of that made sense. I looked up to ask her what she was trying to communicate, but the spot where she had just been seated was vacant. I turned around, scanning the crowd for her, to no avail. Was I going crazy? She had literally been right there! I turned to Coleen. “Hey did you see-“A loud “ahem!” cut me off.  
The assembly had begun. A man in a crisp white suit stood on stage. With dark brown hair neatly cropped around his ears and a strong tall build, he was extremely commanding. I felt myself sitting up straighter. His teeth were the whitest things I had ever seen. They practically glowed against the redness of his mouth. He smiled at us with those luminescent teeth and began to calmly speak. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, today I present to you an opportunity, that will change your lives forever." 

An absolute hush had draped itself across the crowd. Unease and tension and curiosity was clear on every face. The spokesman went on, baring his pearly molars in the parody of a smile. 

"Today you have the opportunity to become an absolute, complete member of the BLI community. You will receive jobs with pay, residence, and subsidence. The ways of life we knew will be returned. BLI has already begun building cities from the imperfect rubble of this former nation where you can make your homes" 

He paused for affect, observing the sea of hopeful faces, then he continued. 

"For their incredible generosity, all BLI asks in return, is that everyone agrees to participate in a program designed to unite us all. All that is required is a simple, daily dose of medication that will be provided by BLI itself. We can see the incredible results unity allows us to achieve through our own militia." at this he gestured at the Draculoids.  
"Since they are of one mind, and one goal, nothing can stand in their path. All things are possible through unanimity." 

The crowd was now shifting uncomfortably. The luxuries of a new life sounded promising, but that phrase the speaker had used "of one mind" was rattling around in my head. Did they mean to use medicine to make us all act the same? I shuddered at the thought. The spokesman went on speaking. 

"Despite our corporation’s incredible generosity, there are some who have turned their backs on the life BLI has offered.  
These are the violent, roving, rebel groups you've heard tell of. They present extreme threat to our peaceful society, and many have been charged with thievery, assault and some even murder." 

I blinked in confusion at this statement, we knew of the rebels the spokespeople often blamed them for problems within camp. But never before had we heard this accusation of them before. I looked over at Coleen, she shrugged at me, Ally snorted and rolled her eyes. I couldn't help but smile. The three of us, so different and yet at the same time, so cohesive.  
Whatever happens, we would get through it together. Somehow. But this only is so much of a comfort as the apprehension built in me. There was something very wrong here.  
The spokesman beckoned off stage. 

“But, my comrades, you need not fear the rebels. With your safety and security in mind as always, we have created a weapon to combat these vagabonds. “  
As he spoke, three Dracs strode onto stage. There was a collective gasp from the crowd. 

“Is that a, body?” whispered Coleen in horror. 

Two of the Draculoids had a man slumped between them, dragging him by his arms. His head was hung limply, but I could see him struggling slightly, weakly kicking his legs.

“Not a body,” the fear in my voice was plain to my own ears “He’s still alive.”

And alive he was, but barely. Even from our spot in the back, the dark stains on his tattered clothing and multi-colored bruises on his arms and legs could be seen clearly. The Dracs shoved him in front of the spokesman’s boots. The prisoner weakly attempted to catch himself, throwing his arms forward but they gave out and he slammed into the ground. The spokesman curled his lip in disgust as he looked down at the man lying by his feet. 

“These rebels are a plague on society and must be exterminated. Luckily, BLI’s scientists are always working to provide us with the newest advances in technological innovation. And thanks to them, we have the opportunity to root out these parasites once and for all. Today, my friends, you will witness the new weapon that is now available to us.” 

The spokesman turned to the third Draculoid, who was waiting at his side. The Drac handed something to him, and then walked out of view. The grin on the spokespersons face literally sent shivers down my spine. He strode towards the man struggling weakly on the ground, and crouched down next to him. 

“This man, is a known rebel with crimes of murder and other transgressions. He is a foul bug that doesn’t deserve the life BLI offers him. But despite his unworthiness, he has an incredibly strong will and, information that BLI requires. And we must extract this information by whatever means we have available. It is fate smiling on us then, that we have just been supplied this new weapon.”

I couldn’t make sense of what he was saying, his words ricocheted around in my head. What was he talking about? Torture? They wouldn’t right in front of us, would they? What purpose would that have? To intimidate us? Terrify us? At the time, I thought that could never be the case. How little we really knew about our “glorious” savior BLI. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The spokesman held up his hand, displaying a small white gun to us. Looking happier than a diabolical madman with a new super-weapon he related 

“This is project 59, prototype 11, full title, Nerve innervation generator heightening tepidity made adrenaline and responsive experience, more commonly known as N.I.G.H.T.M.A.R.E. Quite simply, it is a dual nature drug that when injected into the blood stream ,over-stimulates both the sensory cortex, and Amygdala of the brain, creating terrifying hallucinations and debilitating pain for the subject. One of the most useful aspects of this weapon is that it has no physical side effects, but in most cases, rather,” he paused, smiling calmly “devastating mental effects were observed.” 

“In the spirit of fairness,” he continued, now directing his words at the rebel on stage, “we will give you one more chance to deliver the information we ask of you. Where are the zone runners and Killjoys located?” 

I waited for the tormented man to spill everything he knew. It was impossible he wouldn’t, obviously having already endured so much. I watched as he weakly raised his head to respond, my heart crying for this broken sprit. 

“Fuck you.”  
His words rang clearly through the courtyard, quiet but strong. He grinned up at the spokesperson, 

“you can’t break me, you motherfucker.” 

The spokesman scowled at his prisoner,  
“very well rebel, this was your choice.” 

I was stunned. This man, this rebel, what did he have that made him so incredibly strong? What was so valuable he would sacrifice his sanity to protect it? I knew nothing about this man, not his name, his age, or his past. And yet, I would have given anything to posses his strength. No matter what he had done, this broken, defeated rebel was a hero in my eyes. Now what did that make BLI? 

The mass of refugees watched silently as the spokesman, twirled the N.I.G.H.T.M.A.R.E in his hand. In rapid succession he pushed several buttons on the pistol, and in one smooth motion, placed the gun against the rebel’s neck. Without another word, he pulled the trigger.  
There was a flash, and the horrified audience recoiled as if it was us, having a needle buried in our neck. The man on stage collapsed completely, he lay deathly still, no one breathed. 

“Is he dead?” Addison squeaked.

And then the rebel began to scream. The sound was blood curdling, ripping at my ears. He writhed on the stage, his back arching, his mouth and eyes wide open. I watched his hands scrabbling helplessly against the ground, tearing his fingers bloody. “Nononono. Stop please god no, stop. Cathy! Run away, Cathy they’re here. Stop stop stop. Cathy!” tears streamed down his face and blood flowed from gashes opening on his exposed skin from the rough floor underneath him. He feebly attempted to stand, reaching for some figment created by the drug, “Cathy!” it went on and on, his screams and blood and torment branding themselves into my brain.  
Finally his movements began to slow, his screams lesson. The husk that had once been a brave rebel, lay moaning quietly on the ground, his eyes squeezed shut, blocking out the world.  
The spokesman, who had been standing off to the side, watching with a pleasant smile, walked back into the center of the stage. 

“This is what happens to those who oppose BLI. They will be razed from the face of this planet, none will remain. BLI is absolute.”  
Turning from us, he strode back to the rebel, again drawing N.I.G.H.T.M.A.R.E from his white suit. 

“Now, for round two.” He announced calmly.

My eyes widened in horror. No. There couldn’t be a round two, that man couldn’t take it. It was going to kill him. What happened to the information they wanted? I couldn’t take a round two, those screams, his terror. God, not again.  
Abruptly a shout rang through the crowd.  
“Stop!”  
The spokesman froze, all eyes turned to the man standing rigidly in the front row. His graying hair hung low over his eyes and he looked worn down,  
tired, yet his voice was clear. 

“This is wrong. You said y’all are gonna protect us. I sure as hell don’t feel very safe.”

Rumbles of consent ran through the crowd. The spokesman frowned,  
“please sit down sir.”  
Now the protester look angry, “Hell no! Y’all stop this!”  
Another man, 2 rows away got to his feet. “Yeah, this is wrong” This assertion, this protest, struck a flame under the crowd. All the injustice, pain, and anger that had been held in check, suddenly erupted. There was a rush of people standing up, leaning forward as one body, yelling, objecting, holding their ground.  
The spokesman’s expression was one of cold fury. He tried to speak, yelling into the microphone but the crowd was too loud. He beckoned to the Dracs positioned among the clearing. Without a sound the enforcers began moving through the crowd. In monotone voices they droned, “Stand down citizen, stand down citizen.” Ally, sensing the situations deterioration, grabbed Colleen’s arm, shouting “C’mon!” and pulled the group to the back of the clearing. There, we crawled under a stack of chairs, attempting to find some cover from what was quickly turning into a riot.  
The first shot rang out seconds after Colleen had pulled her legs under the chairs. Screams quickly followed along with more gun fire.  
“It’s ok, It’s ok, It’s ok” whispered Colleen wrapping her arms around Addison who was sobbing loudly. I held my sister’s hand tight as well, trying to curl as small as possible to better fit under the chairs. Ally was praying under her breath, but at the same time, keeping her eyes on the feet rushing by, trying to judge the situation. 

“We might be able to run for it.” She mumbled to me. 

We never got the chance though. A body crashed into the stack of chairs above us, knocking them over in a heap. Suddenly we were completely exposed to the chaos. The man who had fallen into us lay a few feet away, dead from a bullet wound in his neck. I could feel the adrenaline crashing through my body, my mind moving at top speed. This wasn’t good, any order had disintegrating and suddenly we had found ourselves in the middle of a massacre. The Dracs where firing indiscriminately into the mass of people. In the ensuring panic, people attempting to escape the clearing, only to be shot down like animals. The Spokesman was nowhere to be seen.  
I stumbled back as a woman ran past me, completely engrossed on her own survival. I turned looking for the others, we had to get out of here. I saw Ally and Addison several yards away and beckoned to them. They started over, crawling past tumbled chairs. Standing up, to where the bullets were whizzing by wouldn’t have been smart. Suddenly both of their eyes widened and Ally started gesturing at me. “Run Kayla!” she shouted. “wha-“ I started and froze, as I heard an ominous click from behind me. 

I turned slowly to find a Drac, looming over me, his gun pointed at the middle of my forehead. Everything stopped moving. All the sounds of chaos and fighting disappeared from around me, as I stared down the guns barrel into the emotionless mask of the Drac. “Stand down citizen” droned the creature as it’s finger covered the trigger. I have always heard before you die your life flashes before your eyes. But my brain had stopped working. I couldn’t think, the black mouth of the gun drew my eyes, its darkness swallowing me. I was going to die. Somewhere far away I heard Addison scream. I closed my eyes and waited for the bullet to end my life.  
The concussion of the guns blast assaulted my ears. Eyes flying open in shock, I found myself still kneeling on the dusty ground, intact. I stared, uncomprehending at the gaping hole in the Draculoids chest. Slowly it swayed and crashed to the ground, dead as something not truly alive to begin with, can be. I blinked in confusion. Where had that shot come from?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Are you alright?” a warm voice asked from behind me.

I turned to find a young man standing above me. He had scarlet red hair and alive hazel eyes. He was not very tall and lean, yet at the same time, there was a sense of strength about him. He carried himself like a leader. A blue, leather jacket covered in dust clung to his arms, and a smoking yellow gun was clasped in his hand. 

“I barely made it in time, did that bastard hurt you?” 

I couldn’t speak. My entire body was trembling, and my brain still didn’t seem to be working. 

Suddenly Ally, Colleen and Addison were there, surrounding me, hugging me, steadying me. And I was crying, tears streaming down my face, making tracks through the dirt. I was alive, and so damn terrified. Ally turned to my mysterious savior. 

“Who the hell are you?”

He blinked in surprise. “Wow, bold one aren’t you? Shouldn’t I get a little gratitude since I just saved you friend’s life?” 

“Trusting people isn’t a practice I have decided to uphold anymore, now answer the damn question.”

The man shrugged “I don’t have a name anymore, but I go by Party Poison.” 

“ Fuck kinda name is that?” 

Party Poison laughed “Bold and spunky! I like it. It’s a Killjoy name kid, and I, am a Killjoy.” 

I started in surprise at the word Killjoy, that was the word my mysterious friend from the start of the assembly had whispered at me. And the word the spokesman used.  
“You’re a rebel?” I inquired, wiping my eyes on the sleeve of my shirt. 

He nodded, smiling kindly at me, “I am, me and everyone else here.” He gestured around us  
and for the first time I noticed the dozen other people in bright colored attire. Men and women wearing boots, and jackets and ripped up jeans, in every color imaginable. All of them anointed with dust, and all carrying guns. Against the BLI issued gray clothing, they stood out like circus performers at a funeral. The rebels moved like a well oiled machine, checking on the surviving refugees and, assuring the Draculoids sprawled around the clearing were dead.

“What are your names?” Party Poison asked us. 

Ally answered, pointing at each of us in turn and then plowed on in her interrogation of the red haired rebel, “not that we don’t appreciate y’all saving us or anything. But why are you here? ”

Party’s face darkened “the rebel you saw being tortured on stage was one of the Zone runners from this area, we had intel he was here and couldn’t just let him die. I’m sorry we didn’t make it in time to stop the bastards.” 

“So basically you risked dozens of lives to save one prisoner.” 

“That’s what the rebels do, we are a family. We keep each other safe.” 

Party Poison observed Ally carfully, watching for a reaction. “ You think we are crazy don’t you?” 

“No actually, I completely understand.” Ally told Poison, “Kayla, Addison and Colleen are the only family I have left.  
I would give anything to protect them, even my life.”

Party dipped his head “I can tell you would sunshine.” 

Colleen had picked up one of the guns dropped by the fallen Dracs, and was turning it over in her hands, nervously looking around. 

“What are we gonna do now?” She asked quietly “we don’t have anywhere to go.”

Party Poison knelt by her, putting his hand on Colleens arm. “We’ll take you to one of our camps, and get you help there. Don’t worry, you’ll be safe.” 

Ally let out a bark of laughter “I don’t think I will feel safe for a while. Not with these freaking Dracs still around.” 

Party Poison shrugged “I know how you feel, but don’t worry all the ones here are dead. One of our scouts took count of the Draculoids stationed  
at this camp and we made sure to kill all of them” 

What followed this assertion was so ironic it was almost laughable. Colleen nodded, and started to respond when her voice faltered, her eyes fixating on something over Poison’s left shoulder. Without a hesitation she smoothly raised the gun still in her hands, and fired full in the face of the Drac that had risen from the ground. We all started at the sudden noise, Party Poison letting out a stream of colorful curses, and Addison a surprised squeak. The Drac flopped to the ground, definitely deceased now. Colleen carefully set the smoldering gun on the ground. 

“Got it.” She mumbled her voice shaking. 

Party recovered from the shock first, turning to check on the Draculoid. He flipped it over and whistled softly. “Right through the eye. That’s quite a shot. Where did you learn to fire a gun?” 

“I didn’t, I mean, I never have learned.” 

Party Poison cocked his head in confusion. “Then how-“ he stopped as two other rebels jogged over to us.

“Party! You ok? We heard a gunshot.”  
A man with a lip ring and black hair called. He wore a worn, brown vest, with a green collar.  
He looked a bit younger then Party Poison shorter too, but his shoulders were wider and I expected he could handle himself in a fight. 

“Fine, Fun Ghoul.” Party Poison responded “One of the Dracs was playing dead. Would have had a problem, but the little lady here killed it. Shot it right through the eye too” 

The man called Fun Ghoul raised an eyebrow at Colleen. “Her? Stop playing Poison, she barley looks strong enough to lift a gun, let alone make that shot.” 

Party shrugged. “just telling what happened. Up to you to believe it.” 

The other rebel with Fun Ghoul was staring at our group with a scowl on his face. “More strays Party? Really? You should have let the Dracs get them.” 

“What?!” Party exclaimed in disbelief turning to the young man. 

“I mean really!” he continued “These four can’t handle life in the zones, all the fighting and running. They are better off dead.” 

Ally was toe to toe with the heartless villain in a second. “You are really asking for it bastard.”  
She hissed staring up furiously into the substantially taller man’s face. He looked down at her in amusement. 

“I wouldn’t mind you coming to live in the zones Kitten. I could, show you around.” he finished with a smirk and a wink. 

Ally paused in disbelief, and then with disgust spat on the rebel’s shirt.  
“Fuck off asshole.”

In fury the bastard grabbed Ally by the front of her shirt, lifting her off the ground.  
“You little bitch-“ 

Addison’s fist connected with the man’s jaw so hard he pitched backwards, landing ungracefully on the ground.  
My sibling stood in front of Ally, her cheeks flushed in rage. Everyone stared at my little sister in disbelief. At twelve years old, she had just knocked a fully grown adult to the ground. The silence stretched. Suddenly raucous laughter burst into the air. Fun Ghoul and Party Poison, were bent over in fits of crippling hilarity. They were practically rolling on the ground in humor. Both men had completely lost any façade of maturity,  
tears rolling out of their eyes as they fell to pieces. 

Between guffaws, pointing at the collapsed rebel Ghoul managed to gasp “you got decked, by a little girl!” 

The recipient of Addison’s wrath spat and clambered to his feet. He flipped us off and hurried away, trying to maintain what little dignity he had left. After a minuet their howls having subsided, Party and Ghoul’s attention returned to us. 

“You’re an interesting group of kids.” Poison told us grinning. 

Ghoul elbowed him. “You know Party, we have been a little short of hands back at camp lately. I bet we could spend some time on teaching these kids the roads. You know, get Jet Star to train up this one with weapons.” He nodded to Colleen, and then ruffling Addison’s hair he continued. “and I could have some serious fun teaching this little fighter how to really punch. Hell, all of them show promise!”

Party Poison rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Always the recruiter Fun Ghoul.”  
Then he turned to us. “What do you think, you little crash queens, want to become rebels?” 

END OF PROLOUGE


End file.
